Battlelore
by Patience Memory
Summary: /TITLE CHANGE/ 2 series. 1 author. An rabid imagination. Let's see how many ways you can work this, shall we? GW DP #6 Death in the Family: There are some bonds nothing can break. Not even Time itself.
1. Like a Bird

**This, my friends, is Fanfiction. You, as a reader, have no doubt become very well versed in all things strange and freakish. **_**Very**_** well versed. Hopefully this isn't the most crackish thing you've ever heard of, but as I'm so darn **_**stuck**_** on Strong Enough (Which I WILL finish if it KILLS me) I thought I might be able to lose the writers block if I wrote this idea out. God help us all.**

Story #1

**Like A Bird  
**By Patience Memory

It was a beautiful country, green and wild. Trowa had loved it from the first moment he stepped from the rocking circus trailer onto its soil. Cathy had watched him as he had looked over the valley where the trucks had stopped, his eyes as vivid and emerald as the evergreen trees on the surrounding hills and the long grass beneath his feet, and had been happy for him. There was a type of peace in his passive face that made her spirit soar.

It was nearing dark when Trowa left the caravan, his feet making no sound as he glided through the forest. He had lent his hands to the other circus employees for the purpose of setting up camp while it was light, and now he would be left to his own devices until the light had fled the vibrant blue sky completely.

The young man walked through the towering trees and low crawling plant life silently. It took him almost no time to reach what he was looking for. He found it as he took the last few steps down the mountain hill he had been trekking over and into the wild grass and open space of a valley. The land cupped like a bowl, the light wispy grass penned in by the massive, sky touching trees. In the center wound a strip of small willows, signifying what Trowa knew to be a creek in their folds. The small trees hid the water, looking everything like a great wooded snake, slithering through the open spaces.

Careful feet soon met with the large smooth stones at the waters edge as Trowa knelt under the thin overhanging branches beside the creek. Crickets or grasshoppers made their noise, and lightning bugs flitted past, ignoring the eyes of their silent observer. There had been a flash flood here, a few years previous, Trowa noted. The grass and willows covered most of the lands scars, but the evidence was still there in the deeper spots in the mostly shallow stream, and the split in the riverbank opposite him when the dirt and rock had been eaten away in a hurry, in the slope of the land around him, and the sight of massive logs and other such things once deemed unmovable strewn about like a child's playthings over the valley.

Trowa looked up the sky, noticing that the bright colors of this world were paling. It would be dark soon. He stood and turned back the way he had come, silently promising the creek that he would visit it again.

He was halfway up the softly sloping field when he noticed it. Far above him stood a forest tree, as regal and straight as it's fellows, with what looked to be the same width around, yet seemed to be a roughly three meters shorter than its brethren. At closer look a break was visible, causing Trowa to frown. What could have broken the tree in such a manner? There was no vertical split in the bark, or burn mark, so he could discount lightning. The tree showed all signs of being as healthy as any tree in the forest, so the chance of decay or disease was minimal. It wasn't a clean break, but slanted and rough as if it had been snapped under pressure, but what could have exerted that much pressure that far up?

What ever it was, chances were it was injured. That was quite a ways to fall.

Intrigued by the small mystery, Trowa changed his course. Cathy could wait a bit longer. When Trowa reached the roots of his mystery tree he frowned. There was no sign of past injury among the coming shadows. He didn't find the top of the evergreen either. Now with even further interest the solemn clown looked around, his keen eyes searching.

He found what he was looking for within moments. In the branches of one of the mystery trees neighbors hung the broken top, suspended like a ball caught in the hands of a child. Trowa stood still, processing what this sign meant. If the tree top had fallen to the ground Trowa could have surmised that a bear or other creature had trusted the wood too much, and climbed until their weight snapped it. But the fact that the force had snapped the top and flung it into a nearby tree… the perpetrator had been airborne, and coming very fast.

_"It would have to be the larger than the largest bird I have ever heard of to create that type of damage."_ He thought.

The silent circus performer lifted a thin finger, pointed toward the broken tree. Slowly, he moved his hand to the side, tracing an invisible line in the air between the two pieces of his mystery. When he reached the broken branch he paused for a moment before continuing to point out a path into the trees. His practiced eyes caught a few other broken or misplaced pieces of foliage, marking the path of descent clear as day.

The steel in his green eyes was much more soldier then performer as he followed.

* * *

He couldn't breath. He was dying, and it hurt. The boy's heart hammered against his broken ribs, working in vain to replenish the blood leaking through his torn side onto the shadowed ground below.

The darkening forest was silent but for his labored breaths, and the sharp coughs that racked his thin frame every now and then.

Dark was coming, he knew it. He had lain here for… how long? Hours? Days? And his time was nearly up. He was a fighter, always had been, but even he had his limits, and he knew when those limits had nearly been reached. They would be surpassed by dawn he was sure…

This was what he got for running. A death in the bosom of a foreign forest, were his body would be lost to the animals that crawled therein. He would disappear. They'd never find him. He'd haunt as he had in life, forever alone. It served him right.

Something cold brushed against him, moving under his black, sweat drenched hair to lay across his forehead. Fear spiked in his stomach at the touch. Was it some kind of animal? Couldn't it have waited until he was all the way dead? He'd had enough pain in the last couple days. But no, there was no fur on the object, and the position was too familiar. It took the boy's dizzy head quite a few seconds to remember where he'd felt this same touch before. It had been the last time he was sick, his mother's hand laid in this same way, checking for a fever…

A hand. The cold gentle touch was a hand. There was someone here. Someone human.

Soft sounds began to register in his ringing ears. They were words, he realized. He could not make out their meaning, but the fact that they were words uttered by human lips was enough to light a spark of hope in his discouraged heart. With an effort the boy cracked one eye open, searching through the fog clouding his vision for the owned of the hand and voice. His sky blue eye met dark green for just a moment before the gentle hand moved from his forehead to probe carefully at his twisted arm, causing him to gasp. His eyes slid shut once more as he reconciled himself with the blinding pain.

* * *

The boy woke after two days lying in the circus trailer. Trowa had been there, having just rebound the boy's wounds. Light blue eyes, strained with pain, had glided over him, before flickering over the room. It was small and Spartan, holding the small bed the boy was laying on, a chest of drawers nailed to the floor, and a small window. The boy had given the window the most attention.

"How do you feel?"

The eyes darted back to Trowa's tall frame. After a moment of close scrutiny, they widened marginally. Recognition perhaps?

The boy grimaced as he answered. "Like I was flung across half the world with a giant slingshot." The boy's voice had a bit of a melodious bite to it; the kind of voice given to sarcasm, Trowa decided. He didn't sound as young as Trowa had first expected, and his eyes held their own list of unwanted memories. He had been hurt before.

The boy scratched at the bandage around his head, and then at his night-black hair with his cast-less arm. "Although I'm sure I could be feeling a lot worse right now." He said sheepishly. It was a thank you, and with a nod Trowa accepted it as such.

"You were lucky." He said softly, watching the boy's face. "I found you in a bit of a trench, half buried. If I'd been walking any further from you, I wouldn't have noticed at all."

There! A flicker of panic. The child knew what had happened to him, and was not in the sharing mood. Better to back off now, as opposed to pressing further. With those injuries the boy was stuck here for a while, no matter how often his eyes jumped to the window. There was time enough to get answers.

Trowa eased himself up from the wall he had been leaning against and stepped towards the door, easing it open. He could see Cathy in the kitchen, her hands deep in the dishwater. She looked up as the door opened, and caught the message is Trowa's eyes, gasping and rushing to wipe the suds from her hands before walking quickly to the room.

Trowa turned back to see their mysterious patient's eyes dart between the two, dark eyebrows furrowed.

"Well look who's coming around." Cathy said brightly. "You probably don't remember, but you made quite a commotion. I was getting worried seeing Trowa hadn't made it back yet and there he comes, dragging two poles with his shirt tied between them and you lying on top." She smiled. "I'm Cathy by the way, Cathy Bloom."

The boy nodded. "It's nice to meet you." He said politely, before his lip twitched with humor. "Actually, it's nice to be meeting anyone right now." A bit of worry flicked over his face. "You said I made a commotion?"

Cathy waved it off. "Just among the circus people. For entertainers, seems they've been lacking in entertainment lately."

The boy relaxed. "A circus? Wow. That's… actually, seeing how a normal day is impossible for me to have, that's not too surprising."

"So this happens to you often?" Trowa questioned, leaning back against the wall once more, his arms folded over his chest.

The boy laughed. Trowa wondered if he'd imagined the bitter edge to it. "More than you know."

Someone yelled something outside the trailer, their voice panicked. Cathy huffed. "I better go see what that's about." She turned to the boy. "Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I might actually go back to sleep. Go ahead, you and your… Are you her brother?" He questioned. Trowa gave a small smile and a nod, while Cathy beamed.

"We'll be back." She promised, and left the room, Trowa behind her, only to rush back in. "Oh, I almost forgot… What's your name? We can't keep calling you 'The Wounded Boy' or 'Trowa's Latest Injured Creature'."

Blue eyes bored intensely into the knife-thrower's for a moment before he seemed to come to a decision. "My name is Danny. Danny Fenton."

* * *

"He seems like a nice kid, doesn't he?" Cathy asked as they followed the ringleader. There had been a problem with the lions, and Trowa was needed. Cathy's smile dimmed a bit while she thought. "I wonder what happened to him."

Trowa had no answer. The broken tree, the trench Danny had caused in the forest floor, the anxiousness in eyes much too old for a child…

"Do you think he may stay? After he's healed? We've been needing someone to clean up after the animals. I mean, you saw those scars. If he's having trouble at home or something…"

"He won't stay."

Cathy paused, surprised. "How do you know?"

Trowa stopped beside her, and lifted his eyes to the blue sky above them. Cathy had almost given up on him answering when he did, with a soft voice, and clouded far-away eyes. "He reminds me of a bird with a broken wing. He will endure until he is healed, but he will never welcome a cage."

Trowa walked past Cathy, his long strides quickly catching up with the Ringmaster's. Cathy was still, as if rooted to the spot, her wide eyes followed after him as she wondered if Danny was the one Trowa had really been talking about.

-End—

**No, your eyes have not been playing tricks on you. I've been savagely attacked by no less than TEN rabid Danny Phantom, Gundam Wing crossover plot-bunnies, that have been running around my head like they own it. And they WON'T GO AWAY. *cries* Therefore, I'm writing this, a work consisting on parts of all ten ideas, out. Ratings will be from K-T. Hopefully I can get back to Strong Enough then.**

**On the off chance that this interests anyone, I'm planning to put up a pole when I finish writing out all ten story ideas, so you may vote on which story beginning I turn into a full fic. After that decision, the rest of these will be up for adoption. Hey, there are few if any GW, DP fics out there, so might as well start a few to choose from, right? ^.^**

**I hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Do What's Right

**And I'm back! That was fast. Faster then it's been for Strong Enough, I know. Oh well. Hope you enjoy! **

**PS: For people who don't know Gundam Wing, Quatre is pronounced "Katrah". Gave me a load of trouble, seeing I read Fanfiction before watching the show… -_- Just a heads up.**

**Disclaimer: …Yeah. I'm disclaiming them. ^_^**

Story Summary: Just how far is one boy willing to go to do what he believes is right?

* * *

Story #2

**Do What's Right  
**By Patience Memory

"Here we are, Sweetie!" Maddie Fenton slipped the hood and goggles off her head, smiling brightly at the towering building in front of the three Fentons. "Will you look at that?"

Jack Fenton stepped quickly behind his better half, "I'm lookin', Sweat-Cakes! Hey Danny, check this out!"

A frustrated grunt was heard from behind the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, followed by a resounding crash.

Danny looked in horror at the mess he had made. Metal bits and electric wires lay scattered in every direction, the nimbler of the parts rolling under the G.A.W. and toward large gate closing behind the Fenton Vehicle.

"Aw poop." He muttered, dropping the box he had tipped to the ground and flopping to his knees beside it. "Of all the luck…"

"Danny, are you listening?" Maddie called.

"Yeah, sure." Danny stopped in his search for a moment to lean back on his heels and take in the building his parents were gawking at. It was a military facility, and it looked the part. Barbed wire topped the fence surrounding the grey building. Armed soldiers walked the grounds and convoy trucks roared past, looking everything like every army movie Danny had ever seen.

Danny went back to picking up after himself. "I still don't get why we're here. I mean, and I can't believe I'm saying this, shouldn't you two be off chasing ghosts or something?"

Maddie gave an amused smile, pulling her hood back up over her face. "We have to fund our projects somehow, silly. Military security systems are one way to do that."

After a while Danny finally rejoined his parents, the offensive box held a little firmer then previously in his thin arms. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense." He looked up at the building thoughtfully. "Maybe this won't be too bad. I'm pretty sure I'm the only kid that can claim his family vacationed at an OZ base over Labor Day."

A grin split across Jacks face. "That's the spirit!" He said, slapping his son affectionately on the back. Danny bit back a curse when the force sent him flailing, and the box slipped once more from his grasp to scatter on the ground.

"Let's get going Fentons! Danny, pick that up." Jack ordered, before rushing to the driver's seat.

Danny swore he heard one of the soldiers closest to him snicker.

* * *

"Or maybe it _will_ be too bad." Danny muttered sourly. "Maybe it will be more boring than one of Mr. Lancer's I-Care-About-You-Danny-But-You-Need-To-Try-Harder speeches."

He was sitting on the box he had been toting since their arrival, waiting for his parents to come out of their meeting with the OZ official in charge of this base. He couldn't come with them because, as his mother had said, they wanted as few people as possible to know the schematics of the new system. He snorted. Right, because a fifteen year old was _so_ going to call up his friends and break through the security of an OZ base for laughs. Right.

Danny surveyed the inside of the building from his makeshift seat. The room his parents were meeting in was on the second story of the compound, and reachable by a tier like hallway; doors on one side and a thin rail on the other, open to the level underneath it. Because of this design Danny had a full view of the first floor from where he was sitting. With a sigh he stood, moving to the rail and grasping the cold bar in his hands. He leaned over the railing, his eyes on the floor below.

"All officers on alert! All officers on alert!"

Danny's head shot up at the mantra. Instantly the air was alive with excitement as soldiers hurried back and forth, doors opening and shutting, weapons coming out into the open.

"All officers on alert!"

A pair of doors banged open below. Danny leaned over the banister, catching sight of a swarm of soldiers rushing from what seemed to be the back of Convoy Vehicle, guns drawn and aimed at something in the middle. A thrill rushed through Danny's veins.

Then they were in the building, the soldiers forming an almost solid wall, Danny peered into the throng of military personnel, intent on knowing the cause for the ruckus.

When he did see, he wished he hadn't.

He saw him right when the group reached another door in the compound, his eyes focusing on what turned out to be a stock of semi messy blond hair. He was small, with both arms easily held behind him by two of the largest guards. The position they were holding him in forced his back into a hump, but still his head was lifted, his young chin protruding with graceful stubbornness.

He was young.

Dear God, he was a _kid_.

Danny watched as one soldier opened the door. The boy's lips moved, as if he was saying something Danny couldn't hear. Instantly the guard's hand came forward, backhanding the youth with the resounding bark of "Be quiet!"

Danny pushed himself away from the rail as if he was the one that had been hit. Confusion, shock, and pain raced through him.

"_How could a government who claims to be for freedom and liberty smack a kid?"_

As if Danny had said blurted the traitorous thought out loud the prisoners head jerked up and to the side, meeting Danny's eyes squarely with his. Two pools of blue, one shocked, one sympathetic, locked for one long moment before the blond boy was forced through the doorway and out of sight.

Danny winced at the loud, final sound of the door slamming closed behind the prisoner.

* * *

"Jack sweetie, if we run the circuit through that wall the system would be to easy to crack. All you would need to do is-"

Danny tuned his parents out, flopping onto the bed that would be his for the next few days. He dragged his hand over his eyes, sighing loudly. Despite how careful the OZ head had been to not let Danny hear the plans during the meeting, the moment the guard escorting them into they're chambers (a small yet comfortable room consisting of a full sized bed for Danny's parents, a twin for him, a wardrobe with a small old TV sitting on top of it, and a table at which his parents were sitting) they had begun arguing over the proper placement of certain features Danny knew nothing about anyways.

Danny sighed. This was pathetic. He was on vacation, his parents were having a ball, the base was amazing, His friends were going to freak when they heard how much fun he had... and all he could think about was the sound of that man's hand slamming across the blond boy's face.

"Danny?" The sound of his mother calling his name pulled him from his thoughts.

"Huh?" He asked, lifting himself to his elbows and rubbing his neck sheepishly at being caught brooding.

"I asked if you were okay. You haven't said a thing since the guard showed us to our room." She said.

Danny nodded, hearing the worry in her voice. "I'm fine, just thinking."

Maddie moved from the chair she was seated in to Danny's bed. "What about?" She asked softly, sitting lightly beside him,

Danny's eyebrows furrowed. Should he tell her? He shrugged. Why not? This didn't have a thing to do with ghosts. He didn't have to lie now. "Something happened while you guys were in that meeting."

"Was it a-"

"It wasn't a ghost, Dad," Danny couldn't help but give a small fond smile, before his grin turned troubled. "The soldiers were escorting someone into the base, a prisoner."

Maddie hummed in thought. "Probably one of those rebel fighters." She said.

"He was young. Like… like my age."

"Oh, honey." Maddie's arms came around his shoulders and after a moment Danny didn't really mind. "It's hard to see things like that, especially sinse you can put yourself in their place."

"But why? What could he have possibly done?"

Maddie sighed. "Like I said, he was probably part of a rebel group. Child soldiers are a very sad thing Danny, but they do happen. This is a time of war. It's confusing and depressing to see things like this, but it's the way things have to be, for the sake of peace."

Danny turned and smiled at her, starting to feel better. "Yeah, you're right. I just… got to stop thinking of him as a kid, I guess."

Maddie smiled, letting go and standing, but not before giving his hair a good ruffle. "There you go Danny. He's the enemy, no matter the age. You just have to remember that."

"Just like Inviso-Bill!" Jack added. "He's a teen too, but he's still a threat."

Maddie nodded at her husband. "Right. Just like Inviso-Bill."

Neither noticed the smile drop from Danny's face like a bag of rocks at those words.

Suddenly he didn't feel better. Suddenly he felt a whole lot worse.

* * *

"I say they should just destroy it." one of the soldiers said. "Who cares about the technology, it's a Gundam. It needs to burn. I say just blow it up."

His fellow laughed. "As you said, it's a _Gundam_. It's made of Gundanium for Pete's sake. How do you expect us to blow it up?"

"Hey, they did it to one of the menaces already, why not do the same thing they did then, now?"

"Quit gabbing and pass the salt, would you?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Danny frowned into his military ration (Look son! The food comes in a box! This place is great!) as he listened to the soldiers in the cafeteria talk.

"Hey, why don't we just self detonate it?" The man asked.

"We can't hack far enough into the mainframe to do it remotely. It's impossible, unless you want to do it manually, Peterson. Actually that would be the perfect assignment for you."

The soldiers surrounding the long table broke into laughter. Even Danny couldn't keep a smirk off his face.

"Hey, I'm just saying! Wait, what if we made the pilot blow it up? Kid's gonna get executed anyways, right?"

The food turned to cardboard in Danny's mouth. Kid… Were they talking about… _that_ kid? The kid he'd seen them take two days ago? That kid was a… a _Gundam Pilot_!

"What would keep him from just zooming out of here if we left him in his Gundam?"

"We could drain the fuel or something!"

"Just eat your food, Peterson."

There was another round of chuckles.

"Why do you think he fights?" A quiet voice asked.

The table plunged into silence. Danny paled as he realized the question had come from his mouth. Instantly the whispers started.

"Who's the punk?"

"Kid of those Security Specialists, I think."

"Oh really? Wacky pair, those two."

A man across from the boy cleared his throat. "Look kid, we don't care why those idiot pilots are doing what they're doing. We just stop it."

Danny gulped. He hadn't meant to get involved, but now that he was he wasn't going to back down. "But… he's just a kid. He's got a lifetime to live and to risk his life it all like that… he's got to have a reason, right?"

The man snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. He probably just wanted an excuse to blow things up."

If Danny hadn't seen the prisoner himself, he might have believed him. But he _had _seen him himself. He had locked eyes with him and… And a kid with eyes like those wasn't in it for kicks. Those eyes were way too close to his own for that to be true.

He didn't realize it, but at that moment a plan began to form in the back of his mind.

"Maybe Peterson's right, we should just get the boy to blow himself up. Get rid of two problems."

"Hey, you morons do whatever, but I'm _not_ cleaning Hanger B if it works."

More laughter. Danny didn't laugh, staring instead at the man who had said it.

He was the same one that had hit the boy.

* * *

It was a day later when Danny finally hit his ultimatum. They were leaving later that night. Everything the Fentons had brought had been packed up… everything but the three objects lying on the bed before him.

The more Danny stared at them the more pronounced were the chills running down his back.

One was a building plan that had been used by his parents during installation. He had circled two spots; Hanger B, and a certain containment cell. The next was a flashlight, something from one of the many boxes his parents had brought from FentonWorks. The final object was a loaded gun. Danny had found it way too easy to acquire from the Weapons Vault thanks to his intangibility.

Did he dare? Was this the right thing to do, or the biggest mistake of his life? He shook his head. No way. No way was he going through with this… this cracked-up plan. He wasn't the one for it. He wasn't willing to take the consequences if he was wrong. But was he wrong?

Danny jumped half a foot at a sudden noise, petrified for a moment before he realized that his cell phone was ringing. Laughing out right at his own nerves, he grabbed it and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"_Danny?"_

He broke into a grin, his worries forgotten for a moment. "Jazz! How are you? How's the College visitation thing going?"

"_It's amazing! Danny, you should have seen their library! I could stay there for days!"_

"And you say that you're the sane one." Danny teased.

Jazz laughed. It was a welcomed sound. _"So how's the Fenton-Family-Military-Vacation-Minus-One going? Are you having fun?"_

Danny frowned, suddenly back in his predicament. He looked at the firearm in front of him. What had he been thinking? "Yeah, it's…fun. Right." He muttered.

"_Danny?"_

"Sorry Jazz it's just… stuff."

"_What kind of stuff?"_

"Just stuff stuff."

"_Daniel Fenton, I am not letting you off this phone until you tell me what's wrong."_

He smirked. "I could hang up on you, you know."

"_I'd just keep calling back until you were forced to answer."_

"What if I turn my phone off?" he countered.

"_I know where you are. If you don't talk to me I'll just drive over there and make you."_ She said promptly.

Danny chuckled softly. "I'm just a bit confused, Jazz." He relented. "Okay, a lot confused."

"_Why, little brother?"_

"It's just… It's just with ghosts, it's easy. There are good ghosts, and bad ghosts. That's it. If they're evil, they're evil. There's no question.

"..._But?"_

He squeezed his eyes shut. Images of blue eyes, of the slap, of soldiers laughing over the coming death of a child echoed in his mind. "Humans… aren't like that, are they?" He whispered. "You can't just divide them into groups of good and evil, can you?"

"_Oh Danny…"_

"What would you say if I told you I was about to do something majorly illegal?" Danny blurted. "And please don't ask me to tell you what it is, because I won't."

Jazz's next words were cautious now that she'd caught a bit of the gravity of the situation. _"I'd tell you a quote a heard a while back. It's by this guy named Isaac Asimov."_

"What is it?" Danny asked slowly.

"_Never let your morals prevent you from doing what's right." _She paused_. "Danny, could you live with yourself if you do whatever you're planning on doing?"_

It took Danny a moment, but when he answered his voice was firm with decision. "Yes. I think I could."

"_Now tell me, could you live with yourself if you _didn't_?"_

Danny opened his mouth to answer before shutting it again. He said nothing.

Jazz sighed. When she spoke her voice was tender. _"Danny, no matter what it takes, no matter how hard, find where you stand and stick with it. No matter what, never back down. No matter what… do what's right."_

* * *

Quatre sat leaning against the wall, his eyes closed against the dark. He didn't know how long he'd been in here. They had taken him out a couple times for questioning, but nothing drastic had been done yet. He didn't know what to expect.

This was the hardest part, the waiting. He'd gone over every inch of the cell, and hadn't found a single weak point. He had no tools or weapons. His clothes were torn and dirty, and his Gundam… who knew where it was. There was nothing to do but wait, and pray.

He sighed. Unless his fellow pilots found word of his location, or something drastic happened, chances were this was it. He pushed his blond bangs from his forehead.

They could kill him here. But even if they did, he would never regret giving everything for what he believed in. That was the thought he had clung to these past few days, and the thought he clung to now.

Voices in the hall. yelling, running. He could feel the panic seeping into him, the shock. He sat up higher, senses on high alert, a suppressed hope welling up in his chest.

Suddenly it was silent.

Quatre scrambled to his feet as a series of clicks and a grunt from some unseen force was heard through the thick door. Then the door was opening, slowly and painstakingly, until he could make out a silhouette framed against the lighted hallway beyond. A beam of light penetrated the darkness around him, flicking over the walls before coming to rest on Quatre's chest. He squinted past the light, at the face of visitor.

He remembered him from the first day he had gotten here. Blue eyes as emotional as his own peered at him from under cobalt black hair.

Slowly the boy walked forward. He was wary and scared, but there was a determination resounding through him that Quatre didn't need to be and Empath to feel.

"What's going on?" Quatre asked, barely able to believe what was happening. With wide eyes he stepped slowly forward to meet the boy.

The stranger gave a small smile before extending one arm. Quatre looked down to see the boy holding a gun by the barrel, the handle facing Quatre. He wanted him to take it, he realized.

"I'm doing what I have to do." The boy whispered. "I'm doing the right thing."

-End-

**Done! Wow, I had a lot of fun with this one, and have so many ideas of where it would go… Please review, and tell me what you think! Thanks!**


	3. Unreachable

**First off, a big booming THANK YOU to all who have reviewed put this on story alert, and/or Favorited. You guys make my day.**

**This one is a snippet from a bit later on in this plunny, seeing it would need too much build up for the beginning to be much fun. I've left plenty of hints to what's happening, but if you need a better background, ask for it in a review and I'd be happy to lay out how this story got to this point. Or you could vote for it after the completion of this little project, and read it then if it wins. ^-^**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have the coolness to own DP, or the knowledge of politics and all things involving them to have created GW. This was written purely for the fun of doing something seldom done.**

Summary: The light of hope is most visible in the darkest of nights.

Story #3

**Unreachable  
**By Patience Memory

The stars had always looked far away to Danny. They were his dreams, his hopes, his joys… and they were further from him now then they had ever been. He used to reach for them, but now… now he didn't. Now he just watched until the light of day hid them from view.

He had never wanted to be a colonist. He had wanted to go beyond that. He had wanted to go where no one had before, and then to keep going, to fly away and never stop…

Though now he thought he could love the colonies just as much as deep space. They seemed just as unreachable.

It hadn't been as hard to stomach being grounded in Amity Park. If nothing else Danny had had the exhilarating freedom of late night dances through the air, and the rock hard belief that giving up his dreams in order to keep his town safe was worth it. That he was doing what he had destined in his heart to do. Protecting Amity, figuratively and literally, was his purpose, and he would continue to protect until the day he died.

Here he didn't have that. He had no purpose; only blood and sweat and tears, and yelling drill instructors, and early wake up calls, and taunts of how he was lucky he hadn't been sent to Juvenile Hall, and the weight on his heart brought by the fact that his parents, his own _parents_ honestly believed he was capable of attempting murder.

Now he didn't have anything.

Space… dreams… life… hope… it all seemed very, very far away.

Someone cleared their throat. "Fenton, when I said return to your barracks I didn't mean climb on top of them and stare at the sky like an idiot."

Danny jerked out of his thoughts, sitting up quickly on the roof he was sprawled upon and looking for the speaker with guarded blue eyes. The lean man strode into the circle of light thrown off by the lamp Danny had left burning beside his Barracks doorway. The dull glow glared off the Agent's black hair and dark eyes as the owner of the voice scowled up at him with an expression of agitation, resignation and… was that amusement?

No, that couldn't be. Chang Wufei was many things, but Danny severely doubted amused was one of them; at least where Danny was concerned.

Making up his mind to be as obnoxious as possible to the Drill-Instructor-From-Hell despite his current mood, Danny plastered a cocky grin on his tired face. "Yeah, well, you'll have to be more specific next time, sir. We idiots need all the direction we can get."

To his surprise instead of scowling or ordering him off the roof, Chang just frowned. "What happened to your face?" He demanded.

Shoot, Danny had forgotten about that. He reached up, his calloused fingers brushing against the bruise as he self consciously moved further back on the roof, out of the lantern's light. "I… I fell. In the shower." Wow, he was terrible at lying.

Chang must have thought so too, because his frown became more pronounced. "I do not believe you."

Danny cracked a smile. "Yeah, but that's not surprising. You never believe me."

Chang didn't take the bait. "Tell me where you got that bruise Daniel."

Danny frowned sharply. "Stop butchering my name. It's Danny."

Chang paused for a moment, some unidentifiable emotion flitting across his brow before being hidden once again. "Daniel _is_ the name you were given, correct?"

"I prefer Danny."

Chang gave him a calculating look. "You're changing the subject."

"_Crud, he caught that."_ Danny tried not to wince. "I told you, I fell."

For a moment the Agent was silent, his eyes boring into Danny as if they were attempting to read his soul. Then Chang huffed. "That's not what I heard from Brent."

Danny did a double take. "Who?"

"A member of team B-1. The man who saw Kinsley corner you behind the latrines." Was that humor in the Chinaman's voice? "Why did you try to hide his involvement?" the Agent demanded.

"Why do you care?" Danny retaliated, frowning. "You hate me."

Before Danny realized what was happening Chang had sprinted straight towards him, leaping into the air before his feet found purchase against the concrete wall of the barrack and his nimble fingers grasped the edge of the tin roof. In moments he had scaled the squat building, and was kneeling near the edge, his eyes smoldering as he spoke. "I never hated you." He said stiffly.

Danny stared a moment. "Really," He said, finding it increasingly difficult to keep up his mocking attitude now that the intimidating Agent was just feet away. "Then why the constant barbs? Why the attacks on my skills, and put-downs about my age, the extra drills, and the insensitive questions, _sir_?"

The glare turned flat. "Put yourself in my place Fenton. You are a _minor_. In and of itself that is reason enough for me to be against you being placed here. This is a training camp for Preventer Agents, not a babysitting service."

"Gees. Why is it that every time I start to like you a bit you say something like that and completely ruin the moment?" Danny asked, but his eyes were thoughtful.

"And, given your circumstances, I was even more against having you here." Chang continued, ignoring the interruption. "The people here want to learn. You had none of that drive. You just wanted to do your six months and get out of here."

Danny plopped down on his back and looked at the stars, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I can see that. You saw your precious training center as being turned into cheap daycare for delinquents and decided to protest by making my life hell." Danny gave the instructor a look. "When you talked about drive you used past tense. As if you think I have it now."

"Don't you?" Wufei challenged evenly. "You sure looked like you did when you really pushed yourself that last week."

"Well, that was because you said I couldn't do it. I was proving you wrong." Slowly Danny sat up, slid a few inches away from the Chinese man, and made a last ditch effort at a taunt. "Are you actually saying you think I could go through with this… heck that I'd even want to? That I could be a Preventer?"

"Yes. I am."

It was Danny's turn to glare, and though it was nothing like Heero's or Wufei's, the ex-pilot couldn't help but think it held potential. "I'm here by freaking court order sir, because a juvenile boot camp didn't want me. I'm not Preventer material."

"I believe the reason you're here has something more to do with you having friends in high places, as apposed to a sudden lack of space in a Juvenile correction facility." Wufei intoned dryly.

Danny snapped his mouth shut so fast he felt a sharp pain run through his jaw. "I refuse to acknowledge anything he gives me." He growled. "He's nothing but a manipulative, obsessive Fruit Loop with serious issues." He crossed his arms. "And if he's high places, I want to be a coal minor when I grow up."

Chang suppressed a smirk. "He kept you out of prison. You should be grateful." He admonished.

"I am not grateful." Danny spat. "He wants me broken Chang. The only reason he would get me put me here is because he thinks it will be too much for me. Prison, well, I've been there before. He knows I can handle it. Having a bunch of self-righteous Drill Instructors do everything they can to mess with me, not so much."

"Well, if he wants to break you he isn't succeeding."

Silence. Slowly, with an expression that would have looked less god-smacked if Wufei had punched him in the stomach, Danny turned towards the instructor. "Did you just… complement me?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Wufei gave him a snide look. "Yes. And if you act like a fish out of water every time I do, I might feel the need to quit the practice."

"You're hinting that there would be a reason for compliments in the future." Danny was unable to keep the slightest twinge of awe from his voice.

Wufei's gaze gained a slightly condescending edge. "You've beaten men twice your size in both combat training and the obstacle courses, with minimal effort. You're selling yourself too short."

Danny grinned. "Oh, so now you think I have confidence issues?"

"I do, actually."

Danny snorted, trying not to show just how much Chang's sudden approval was affecting him. "Yeah, and that is why I smart mouth all the time, because I'm scared of what people think." He muttered sarcastically.

"You smart mouth because you're hiding."

Suddenly Danny did not like where this was going. "I am not hiding!"

"Yes, you are."

"What would I have to hide from? I'm a teenager. By rule teens are wimps about life. If I was hiding it would be from some stupid little-"

"It's not stupid or small." Chang interrupted, his tone crisp. "It is something big. Big enough to scare you into masking your fear with a joker's facade."

Danny was getting more and more unnerved with every word Chang uttered. "Then please enlighten me, Great Drill Instructor, since you have this all figured out. What is this terrible secret?" Danny asked, hoping his tone didn't sound as strained to the Preventer Agent's ears as it did to his.

"That's what I plan on finding out." Wufei glanced up at the night sky. "I believe this secret has a great deal to do with why you were unable to prove your innocence in court."

Danny gasped sharply, suddenly unable to process what he'd just heard. It was like the sky had fallen, the weight of months vanishing and every time he had thought Chang was a near-sighted, haughty, narcissistic jerk flying straight out the window. "You think I'm innocent?" he hated how desperate those words sounded.

Chang met his eyes. "I know it."

It was like the floor (or roof) had fallen right out from under Danny's rump. "H-how do you know?" he inquired, almost afraid of the answer.

Chang frowned at the bruise covering the left side of Danny's face. "Because someone who tried to convince the court that they were innocent of aggravated battery and even claimed to witness someone else committing the crime would _not_ cover for someone who _beat them up_ behind a latrine. If you won't even rat out the guilty, you would never blame someone innocent. You have enough honor in you to take your own punishments." His eyes stayed on Danny's shocked, hopeful ones for a moment longer. "Daniel Fenton, you are no criminal."

Danny was stunned silent. His head swam as he waded through the astonishment that now, here, _finally_, after all he'd been through, someone believed him. Someone knew the truth.

He wanted to cry. Or laugh. Or hug Chang. He wasn't quite sure which yet.

Chang negatted the third option by standing and turning from the teen. With a quick leap hejumped to the ground, landing like a silent cat. He stood and looked over his shoulder. "You remind me of someone I know, Fenton. The smiles and remarks are the best mask you have; they keep people irritated, and the keeps them from getting close. From getting hurt. Hurt by some secret big enough that you're willing to gain a criminal record to keep it hidden."

Danny flirted with the idea of protesting, but found himself painfully aware that any objection on his part would be utterly useless. Chang had figured it out and there would be no dissuading him from the truth. Danny gave Chang a shaky smile. "You know, I think I liked you better when you were screaming at me for messing up on the obstacle course. You're creepily smart when you're acting semi-friendly."

Chang's lip quirked in a small show of triumph before his face became serious once more. "You've been given an opportunity, Fenton, even through this injustice. You could flounder through the training, stumble through the rest of your sentence and go back to you're secrets, or you can blow the world away the way you did me last week when I challenged your abilities, and prove that you are worthy of a future. Then, maybe you would actually get to those stars you ogle so often."

Danny lifted his head, eyeing him thoughtfully. "And you'd welcome me into your precious Preventers? Secret and all?"

"I would. There are many people who live in secrets." Chang replied, before he gave a smirk of his own. "Although I do plan on having uncovered yours long before then."

And with that last challenge he was gone, disappearing into the blackness of the night without another sound.

Danny chuckled quietly. "Yeah, good luck with that one!" He yelled after the Agent. He wondered if the fact that part of him wasn't being sarcastic at all should surprise him more than it did.

Slowly he leaned back, looking once more into the sky. A Preventer huh? He was already a protector; he had been for a long time. This training… Chang was right. If he really tried, he could _do_ this. He could grab a hold of a future that combined his love of space with the burning desire to _help_, to be the hero he had pledged to be. It was like doing what he'd always done, and getting paid for it.

That and he was positive him earning a future out of this hell Vlad had set up wasn't in the creep's master plan for him. And anything that could blindside Vlad was good in his book.

Maybe… maybe he would think about it. Maybe his dreams weren't really that far off.

And at that moment the heavens above him didn't seem to be that unreachable after all.

-End—

**I tried three different ways to do this one, and this part just flowed easiest. This one just struck my fancy… Wufei, the Drill Instructor From Hell, and Danny, Unwilling Preventer Recruit and King of Cheek.**

**Danny might seem to be a bit too irritating, but I decided he does tend to bring out the audacity when he feels threatened or just doesn't like someone (Exhibit A: any time he meets Vlad. Bye-bye nice guy, hello scathing bravado). This is my first try at Wufei, so tips and critiques (on both characters, actually) are highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Red as Blood

**Another one to bite me in the posterior and not let go. Honestly, I had a list of ideas to write out, and I think the plunnies saw my attempts at organization (ahem, we ALL know how that one goes down) as an attempt to establish control over them, and are punishing me by multiplying faster than previously recognized as possible.**

**Anyways, back to the point. Here's the next one.**

Summary: Two teens, two pasts, two masks. One journey, shrouded in mystery and tinged with red…

Story #4  
**Red as Blood  
**By Patience Memory

If I had worn red that day I would have never known any of the bizarre things connected with one Danny Fenton. If I'd worn red I would have seen his eyes grow ten sizes for a moment, his already pale face do an awesome impression of a sheet of paper, and the bottoms of his worn sneakers as the kid hightailed it out of there. But, I didn't wear red. I'm still debating if that was a good thing.

I spent a lot of time busy in those days. The war was over, and things were getting back to normal, people on earth and in the space colonies trying out this new fad called peace. I for one hope it catches on.

But me keeping busy is not the point. Well it does _have_ a point, just not one that has anything to do with what I saw in front of that orphanage that day.

They call it the Waffle House, that orphanage. It was really named some long dead guy named Whitfield something or other, but when even the lady who runs it calls it Waffle House, barely anyone remembers that it was ever anything else.

I stop by every now and then, just to check up on the place. Okay, okay, I check up every time I'm anywhere near it, but that's beside the point. It's a descent dig, small and a bit dinky (nothing up here isn't, really) but better than the alternative. Really, seein' the streets are the alternative that's not that high an order to fill. The kids who stick to this place for any length of time know me by name, and the lady who runs it stopped tryin' to run me off when I started bringing gifts during my visit. They need a lot, and they take what they get.

Now, before you ask, I never consciously decided I was going to start babysitting an orphanage. It just happened that way; and after a while I found a few good reasons to keep it up. As I said we're tryin' at peace; key word tryin'. None of us around here have had anything near it in a long time, not really, and I for one am not sure we can get it right, not on the… second try, was it? Hey, I'm no pessimist, but you don't Pilot a Gundam, THE most high-tech war machine ever invented, by being a moron. I know there's going to be rebels and unhappy war-mongers and all that crud, And I'm sure the Preventers will be showin' those inevitable idiots just what's up when they show there ugly mugs, but if I can help it, they won't show them here.

These kids are gonna know peace if it kills me to ensure it. An' I'm a real pest to kill. So it'd be easier on you radical rebel idiots out there if you find your sorry selves somethin' else to make your point with. An' don't you dare try an' tell me you would stoop to using kids as collateral. I know better. Way better.

I saw him first standing outside the place, knuckles white as he clutched at the plastic bag I assumed held his belongings. He was a skinny, gangly critter, with bright blue eyes starin' out from under a mess of dark hair and a thin mouth set in an indecisive line. His feet (which actually had shoes on them, believe it or not) seemed to have a mind of their own; first they'd go forward towards the place, and then they'd shuffle back, losing their nerve, with their owner seemingly unobservant of their attempts.

Bottom-line, kid was scared stiff. Of course, back then, I actually thought it was of coming into the Waffle House. Now I know better.

It took me about five minutes to get fed up with him. Trust me, I know how intimidating orphanages are, but there's a limit to just how long you can stand there and impersonate someone who needs to pee because of your insecurities. And so I decided to do the obvious thing.

Walk up to the kid, grab his arm, and drag him in.

My brilliant plan was thwarted the second I stepped out of the door. Instead of standing quietly and awaiting his doom, Mr. Blue Eyes gave me the look a deer would have before it gets pwned, and scampered off around the nearest corner like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

I was startled for the briefest of moments before doing the only sensible thing that came to mind, and played the cat to his mouse. Now, see here, I grew up on these streets. I can tell you every nook and cranny on the L2 Space Colony, and list five ways to get there from any starting point, I swear. So I knew I had it in the bag the moment I took off after him, considering he had turned into a dead end.

So you can guess how surprised I was when I turned that corner to find it completely and totally desolate. I took a while, checking the putrid dumpsters and poking around in the shadows, but eventually I had to compose myself, and acknowledge the fact that the kid wasn't there. Either he was fast as lightning, or better at hiding than I was. Which, by the way, ain't possible.

I stood for a moment, staring around, and then I tucked my hands in the pockets of my black pants, and walked back to the Waffle House.

Mrs. Muller jumped me the second I stepped back in. Ya see, L2 is a dog eat dog kinda place, and she wasn't gonna pass up the opportunity to get somethin' out of me while she could. She was gonna have to pay full price almost everywhere else, orphanage owner or no, and havin' a big (okay, I'm wishin') strong boy around to fix stuff instead of getting ripped off by some handyman was just fine in her book. She roped me into cutting veggies for a dinner stew, an' set off to whatever the poor lady does with herself all day long.

They have a lot of stew around there. It's an easy way to keep everyone fed. It's a trick of the trade really, stew is. You can get away with putting nearly anything in it, an' if yer not gonna have enough to go 'round, ya just pour more water in, stretch the broth. Sometimes it ends up tastin' like water with veggies floating in it, but its food. And, repeat after me kids, Food Is Good. I got to choppin' and after a while, I dismissed thoughts of the blue eyed escape artist from across the street in favor of chatting with one of the older kids, Seitay (she was in charge of the potatoes).

I was halfway through my fourth carrot when I heard it. It was a small sound, quiet as a whisper. That's probably what drew my attention to it. Any noise in the Waffle House is explosion loud. Ya hear absolutely everything through the paper-thin walls anyways, so no one even tries for privacy. They say what they say, and they say it straight, and everyone knows what they said. Half of why I like this place.

Seitay noticed I was on edge right away. She's good like that. She'll make a great mother that one will. Always knows what's happening before anyone else.

"Duo?"

"Shh."

"What's wrong?"

I sent her a look, bending my face into a comical expression. "SHHHHHHHHHHHHH." I hissed loudly.

She made a face and stuck out her tongue. "Fine, like I care." She mumbled, and I grinned at her past the uneasiness in my stomach. I had to find out who's being quiet in Waffle House before I exploded.

I walked up to the wall behind Seitay, and pressed my ear against it. I could imagine the look on her face when I did it too, and the image almost had me chuckling as I repeated the process on the next two walls. On the third wall the noise is just a bit louder, and I smirked in triumph. Now, this wall stands between the kitchen and Mrs. Muller's office. Don't know why anyone would be in there. Any of the kids would know better than sneaking around right next to the kitchen when food is being made on the chance of being heard, and Mrs. Muller hates paperwork. She avoids that room like the… She doesn't like that room.

I turned to Seitay (I was right about her expression) and give her my best Don't Mind Me, I'm Crazy smile. "I'm gonna go do something. See ya!"

"You better come back. I'm not doing your job for you. Pull your own weight." She grumbled.

"Oh, I knew you'd understand." I prattled as I marched out of the doorway. I waltzed down the narrow hall, and stopped in front of the office door. I twisted on the doorknob just enough to confirm that it was locked. With a slight nod I dropped soundlessly to my knees and reached behind me, snagging the end of my chestnut braid with my hand and pulled it over my shoulder. I pushed two fingers of my free hand deep into it, and carefully drew out something nestled within.

A lock pick. Ha! See Heero, having a three foot braid IS practical!

And with that I got to work. Now I coulda had that door open in three seconds flat, and as silent as a grave too, but I didn't want to sneak this time. I wanted to startle the intruder. Give 'em a bit of heart trouble for messin' with Waffle House. So I let the metal jingle a bit before finding that spot where you can feel the metal move under your instrument and pushing the pick in. I heard a gasp just as the lock gave under my experienced fingers, and I couldn't keep a rather dark smirk off my face as I stood, throwing the door open. Just the barest of moments before I had a clear view of the room there was a bright flash of light, like a light bulb blowing out or something. I think I was half certain that it was a flash bomb, and the room was going to be empty when the door was fully out of the way. It wasn't. Sitting there, surrounded by thick manila files, and tons of papers, is the kid. THE kid. Black messy hair that falls dangerously close to covering his startled blue eyes, clenching a file so hard the knuckles on his bony hands are whiter than the rest of him. And that's pretty white, especially since I just scared the jahoovas out o' him. The boy who I've now decided can teleport, since I can't find another way he could have gotten from a dead end alley to a room _with no windows_.

"Hello," I said congenially. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He looked down at his hands (which are shaking), then back up at me. "Organizing?" And then he smiled.

Now, I know smiles. Y'know, those things that ya make when you're happier then a canary? They're to show the world your fine; either that or they're to hide the fact that ya aren't. That kid smiled like the latter. He smiled because behind that mask nothing would be able to reach him, hurt him. To throw someone off, to make them back off, because you don't care, and you're just peachy. He smiled like I do. Like I've been smilin' for years. And that, my friends, is why instead of pouncing on him, I did what I do best. Run my mouth.

"Well if you're organizing, you sure ain't used to using a file cabinet, I'll tell ya that straight up. Really, you'd think Muller would get some decent help every once and a while." I said, my voice carefully casual, as if we were talking food prices.

He blinked at me. He blinked again. He almost lost the mask for a moment, but then it was back, hard and impenetrable, and falsely indignant. "Hey! And I thought I was doing a decent job here."

I shook my head morosely, pretending I didn't see his eyes dart to the open doorway behind me. "Not a chance, pal. This place is a mess. You should try your hand at something else, say, demolition expert." I nonchalantly kicked backward, sending the door swinging closed behind me.

He did a superb job hiding his panic, but I could feel the adrenaline pumping through him even as far away as I was. He did not like being closed in, and he was gonna pounce like an animal if I didn't play it right.

"Dude, you just say that because you didn't see this place before. Took me forever to find anything. I tell you. There's no honor in these jobs." He says, and I'm hard pressed not to laugh in his face. No honor in these jobs, he says. Well ya got that right, ya little thief. The sarcasm, irony, and humor in his words are placed perfectly, painting a heavy fog over the frantic gears turning under that messy head of hair.

"But I can't please everyone," He said, and he stood, casually stuffing the file he was holding into the plastic sack in his hand.

Ooh, "organizing" right under my nose. Kid's got nerve, I'll give him that.

"So, since I can't do a good enough job, how bout you let me out of here? I better get out there on the job market again and all that…" He wants to know if I'm gonna let him out, or bring the fury of heaven down on his head. And I really don't think I mind lettin' him off with this one. I pride myself on being a decent judge of character, and nothin' I've seen of this guy tells me he's dangerous to Waffle House or these kids.

Now, that's the upside to his behavior. The downside, is that now I want to know why a thief who's evidently able to sneak into locked windowless rooms is casing an _orphanage_. I mean come on. There's no way I'm lettin' him off the hook until the Maxwell Curiosity TM has run out.

Though, with what I know now, this would have been an awesome place to mull over what the Maxwell Curiosity tends to do to cats. And braided Ex-Gundam Pilots. Just sayin'.

"Well, I do see where you're coming from." My voice was a heck of a lot more amused than I was really, but if it wasn't he might take me seriously, and it's ten times easier to get what you want when no one takes you seriously. "Maybe I could help some. You know, clean the place up for Mrs. Muller. Why don't we start with those papers in your sack." I pointed lazily, and he pulled his sack behind his back sharply.

I got what I was expecting; a glimpse at just what's under that smile. It's burning and desperate and terrified and determined. He licks his lips, and his eyes dart to the wall behind him. Then, the briefest flicker of defeat, and his shoulders slump. His mask falls, to be instantly replaced with another, sadder, more pathetic one. "Look." His voice is steady. "I'm not trying to get on anyone's turf, okay? Just leave me alone, and I'll do the same. Just let me go."

I let my eyes change into something softer. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you buddy." I said, holding my hands up in a show of peace.

He snorts in disbelief, and I feel a twinge of something sad and miserable and familiar at the disbelief in his eyes. Kid's shouldn't have cause to disbelieve someone when they said they won't hurt them. That ain't how they're supposed to live. Yeah, I know how many do… but that doesn't mean I like it, and it doesn't mean it ain't sick.

I forced a happy-go-lucky smile onto my face. "Hey hey, don't be like that. I wouldn't lie to you." I said.

His gaze sharpened, and he tilted his chin up as he slid one foot back in a loose fighting stance. "Prove it." Mask number three. Intimidation.

Not in your lifetime kid. Time to take it up a notch, dontcha think?

"Is it just me, or is it a bit stuffy in here?" I ask, mentally applauding myself at the confusion that sweeps through his gaze at my sudden change of topic. "I think a nice walk outside would be good for both of us, eh?"

A moment of careful blankness, and that smile's back. "I think you're right. Smart idea."

He only said that because he was thinking escape, but hey, a compliment's a compliment.

I eased the door open behind me, and grinned, backing into the wall next to the open doorway. For a moment I see something startled in his eyes, then something hopeful. He takes a full three steps toward the door before he wavers and stops, covering up his suspicion by bending to mess with his shoes (the laces are long gone). He doesn't want to come within reaching distance of me.

My grin widens, and just a bit of a challenge leaking into it as I waited patiently for him to stop fiddling. He stood, and after another beat moved forward. He was nice and slow, almost pressing into the wall across from me, until he finally came within reach. Then, he pounced for the door.

My hand was out and ready, and I caught hold of the course fabric of his well worn shirt. Huh, I was aiming for his arm. Fast punk, isn't he?

Instantly he's twisting, and I feel the fabric fall from my grasp. I lunge, and this time I have his skinny bicep locked in my hand. He struggles harder.

"Come on kid," I grunt as he fights my grip. "Don't be like that." I said again.

"Oh, right," He manages through clenched teeth. "Because not being like this would keep me alive so much longer than fighting would."

I chuckle, and he's miffed by my amusement. Until I start moving, dragging him behind, then he's to busy being squirmy again to be miffed.

"Duo!" Seitay's voice rings sharply from behind us, and the kid freezes. "I told you!" She yelled out, coming around the corner and placing her hands on her hips in the Universal Don't Mess With Me Young Man Pose. "I'm not chopping your carrots! Get over here and… who the heck is that?"

"This," I say, my face completely serious. "Is a purple elf- lepricon in disguise." With that I turn from Seitay's gaping visage and march my captive towards the main rooms. He's so bewildered by my answer that he doesn't struggle until we emerge from the hall.

I think the stares of about twenty kids knocked him out of his daze though. To my joy he quit squirming; must have realized how outnumbered he was. Even if he got loose, he wouldn't stay loose long. That would be a show wouldn't it? All those people rushing at the poor kid as he stands in their living room… I'm tempted to let go, just to watch the fireworks, but, in a sudden bout of compassion I resist.

By then every kid in the house was out to find out what the ruckus was about. I marched the kid straight through the middle of them, and almost crack up again at the glares he's sendin' anyone who looks at him to long. He stopped pretty quickly though. Guess he realized that tryin' to act tough as nails when a guy in a braid dressed like a priest has ya in a vice grip is like trying to pickpocket a policeman while he's handcuffing you. It usually don't work to well.

I took this peace within the storm to reach behind him and deftly pluck his bag from his hands. Now, let me get this straight. Street Rats are extremely possessive of there stuff. I am a trained professional. Touching someone's stuff without the necessary experience can be extremely bad for your health. So folks, don't try this at home. Unless you're a masochist. No, don't try this at home even if you ARE a masochist.

Of course, the blue eyed kid gave me hell for that.

"What do you think you're doing! Give that back!"

"Sorry pal, no can do."

"Just- urgh- let go!"

"I told you, I- hey! Did you just try to bite me?"

"Give me my stuff!"

"Nope. If I give you your stuff, you'll take off the moment we're in the open, and then I'd have to chase ya all over, and end up doin' some stunt that rips my shirt or something, and then Hilde will end up yelling at me for it. Therefore, letting you go is not in my best interests."

"It's in mine!"

"Oh. Well yeah, but I don't really care about that part."

"Look, just let me go! I'm not doing anything." He grunted, digging his heels into the floor and straining backwards.

I, being the caring loving person I am, let go, sending him down on his rump. I then turned, swinging the bag on my finger, and walked out the door.

"What are you doing!" I heard him shout. "You can't just take that!"

"But just a sec ago you said you wanted me to let go, kid." I said cheekily, still spinning the sack on my finger. "What is this, indecision or selective amnesia?"

I reach the other side of the street before he catches up. He grabs me roughly by the shoulder and spins me to face him. The fact that I knew he was going to try that is probably the only reason I didn't put him in a hospital. "Yes?" I asked him sweetly.

He was furious, which is exactly what I was aiming for. If he was furious, he would make mistakes, and I would gain an edge.

"Give it back."

"Why?"

"It's mine!"

"That folder ain't."

"But I need it!"

"For what?"

He stops, and his expression calms. It almost startles me, how fast he can pull the mask up. "Look, I just need some information from that. You can have it back after I get that, okay? Just, let me see it."

Maxwell Curiosity TM raises a couple more notches. "If you wanted info, ya could have just asked."

"I was going to earlier." He replies hotly. "But you sort of chased me off."

Oh. "I guess I did. My bad."

He reaches out imploringly. "Can I have it now?" He asks, pulling off some darn good puppy-dog eyes.

I think for a moment. Then I reach out, grab his wrist, and pull, sending him off balance. A quick tap behind the knees and he caves to the ground, where I, with every ounce of maturity in my body, sit on him before he can get up.

"OOf! What the heck!" He yells, pushing against the sidewalk.

I nobly fished the file out of the sack and place it on the sidewalk right in front of his nose. He turned his head to stare at me like I'm an alien. "What?" I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest and idly picking at the rolled up sleeve. "I'm all curious now! You can look at the file, but if I didn't hold you down you'd take off, and then I'd never know."

He gaped at me. "_YOU'RE NUTS!"_

I threw my head back and laughed, preening at the disturbed look it earned me from the black-haired spitfire pinned to the sidewalk. "Gee, I've never heard _that_ one before. Now read."

"You're pushy too." He grumbled under his breath.

"I'm also sitting on you. You should do as I say."

"Oh, so now you're logical _and_ insane."

I smirk at the sarcasm. "I could take it back you know."

That convinced him. After a few moments of shifting so that he could sorta use his arms, he went right into it, while I blatantly read over his shoulder.

It was a report on some of the younger Waffle kids. I watched his finger moving over the column of names. He grunted in displeasure before turning the page and scanning the Polaroid pictures held there. It's something they do the moment you come into Waffle House. Feed a picture into the system to be held next to missing child reports. Halfway through the second page he stopped, his breath hitching at the picture under his finger. I leaned over his shoulder, to get a better look.

She was thin, a wispy little thing really. The picture was taken inside, where she was watching some of the kids play checkers, head bent down towards the board. Her back is pressed against the wall and there is a small smile on her pale lips and humor in the one blue eye not covered by her raven black hair. That was the moment I understood what was really happening. It sobered me up real quick, the way he held the photo, his whisper that she'd really been there, the way he slumped in defeat when he found the form indicating that she'd disappeared from Waffle House almost a year previous.

"You're related." I stated.

He paused a moment before nodding. "We got… separated, a long time ago." He forced his neck into a very awkward angle and managed to look at me. The way he's smirking furthers the resemblance between him and the pixy in the photo held gently in his hand. "I've done this at a lot of orphanages. They usually won't let me see records if I ask, so I go in on my own." I usually ask first though, no need to make extra work for myself. This is the first time I've been caught… and the first time I've actually found a lead."

"How long have you been looking for her?" I asked him quietly.

I watched as his smirk faded. "Not nearly long enough."

A heavy silence fell over us, the kid still paging through the file, as I sat and wonder how I managed to make myself look like such a jerk, and set about attempting to apologize.

He cut me off the third time I tried. "Look," I can hear the amusement in his tone. "Water and bridges, okay? You were protecting your own. I get that."

I was relieved that the tension was breaking. "Great." I regarded him for a moment. "Hey kid, I never did get your name."

"I didn't get yours either." Was his reply.

I grinned down at him. "Duo Maxwell, at your service. I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie." I wink. "That's me in a nutshell."

"…Danny. And I don't think I can fit in a nutshell. Now how 'bout you get off so I can give you a nice manly handshake."

I send him a teasing glare. "You won't run off, will ya?"

"Scout's honor." He huffs. "Not that that would do me much good. You read her "last known destination" in the notes section over my shoulder. You know that's where I'm headed next. If you wanted to bug me, I couldn't really stop you."

"Got that right." I felt a sort of satisfaction that he caught that. There's more than a brick in that head of his after all.

I let him up, and we stand, neither really knowing what to say, and both hating the silence. "So, you live there?" He finally asked me, waving a hand at the Waffle House (I wave at the kids gawking at the spectacle we were making us from the windows).

"Na, I work a ways from here. I grew up a street rat myself, so I, you know, come check up on them and stuff." Time to change the subject. "You got a place to stay Danny?"

It truly is amazing how fast camaraderie can go down the toilet. "I'm doing fine." He said his eyes wary. "I won't be around here long anyways."

"You didn't answer the question, buddy."

One of his black eyebrows had a nice meet and greet with his hairline. "I don't feel like it."

"Awe, I thought we were past this! I don't bite!"

"But you do sit on children and drag people around by their arms."

"So what, you expect me to throw you over my shoulder and take you home with me if you don't have a place?" I faked a brokenhearted expression. "I thought you knew me better than that."

"Hoonneyy! I'm home!" I yelled. A clatter rang through the workroom as someone drops something, and there was Hilde standing in the doorway, grease smeared over her hands and across her chin.

"Duo! Where have you been! It's your turn to cook, moron. Leaving me with all the work…" She sniffed at me, rubbing her dirty hands on her coveralls as she turned to go back to her work. I grin at her back, counting down merrily in my head. Right on cue she pauses, spinning on her heel and taking another look. "Duo? Is that a… person?"

"Oh this?" I look back at the kid hanging down like a sack of potatoes over my shoulder and meet furious blue eyes. Danny's glare would have been much more effective if his face wasn't beet red from being upside down for so long.

I look back at Hilde, nodding solemnly. "Yes Hilde, I believe it is a person."

"Put. Me. Down." He growled out between clenched teeth. I shrugged and let him tumble off me onto a sagging couch. I walk to one of the workbenches and lean against it, dropping Danny's sack of belongings down next to the tools littering the workspace. I hate to keep his things again, but after the eleventh time he managed to slip right through my fingers I decided that would be the easiest way to keep him still.

Hilde stared a moment before giving me a look. "Duo, what did I say about kidnapping?"

My grin widened. "His fault." I sung out. "He was taking too long to decide that yes, getting a meal and a roof over your offered _is_ a smart idea."

Danny gaped. "I'm capable of making my own decisions! I've been making them for a long time!"

I shook off the way my stomach clenches when he says that, and shrug easily. "Yeah, but you were taking too long. I got bored."

"Bored? You carry me here like a-a- something you carry- because I _bored you_?"

I gave him a smile that I hoped was as irritating as I meant for it to be. "Yeah, pretty much."

Danny groaned.

"Wait," Hilde walked over to stand by me, her eyes trained on our visitor. "Duo, what's this about?"

I stretched my arms over my head. "Found the kid rifling through files at Waffle House. Turns out he's looking for his…" I think back to the all so similar picture. "Sister, right?" Danny nods after a moment's thought, "an' he doesn't have a place to stay-"

"I never said that!"

Ya never said you _did_ either." I drawled. He glowered at me.

Hilde looked between the two of us, her dark blue eyes thoughtful.

"I'll get a cot."

"What?" He yelled, shocked. I jump up, and through an arm around her small shoulders. "Thanks babe! I knew you'd be on my side!"

Danny drops his head in his hands and stares at his bag, which is sitting beside me. "Oh for the love of… I don't have time for this. I finally got a lead as to where Danielle might be, and you won't let me go there."

"Sure I will." I insure him. "Just not today... or alone."

Both he and Hilde froze instantly. "You're not coming with me." He said, but there was a level of uncertainty in his voice. I think he'd started to understand that you usually can't keep me from doin' what I want.

"'Course I am. Look, I know what your thoughts are on this kid, but you're no grown-up yerself. You wanna take care of her, but you need to be taken care of too."

"I do not! I've been doing just fine alone! Besides, you're, what, two years older than me? How's that any better?"

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly why it's different, but was stopped when it's covered by Hilde's hand.

"And what about the Salvage Yard?" She demanded.

I pulled her fingers free, giving her a reproachful look. "Aw, Hilde! I thought you'd be for this! I mean, don't ya wanna see these two back together? How can ya stop anything that might help them out? That might give them a chance at an actual family? I mean, neither of us had a chance to be happy at that age! But there's no war now! Why can't he get what we didn't have?"

Hilde frowns, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. I give myself a round of applause in my head and began pulling heartstrings.

Thirty minutes later Hilde's making up a cot for Danny, the kids sitting with his knees up to his chest and a melancholy expression on his face, and I'm tryin' to keep my smirk from being too obvious. I stride over to his side. "So, we'll get a shuttle the day after tomorrow. Can ya wait that long?" I ask, more to gage his resistance to my involvement than anything else.

"… That's fine." Good. Looks like he's seeing just how having another set of eyes could help him. He's keeping his eyes straight ahead. "You said you just help at that orphanage."

I nod. "Yeah, keeps me busy."

"You have any family?"

I sent him a sharp look, but he wasn't looking at me, so he didn't see it. "I have friends." I told him. He nodded, as if that cleared up everything.

"There you are! All done!" Hilde called. She comes over, and puts a hand on her hip. "And after you're done you're washing the sheets yourself. I'm not anybody's maid." She said, giving Danny an appraising look.

My grin flashed on my face. "Alright! Let's get to bed. Big day tomorrow!" I followed Hilde from the room, but just before I made it out the door Danny called me name. I paste another smile on and turn. "Yeah?"

He was standing, his plastic bag hanging from his fingers. "I sort of get what you were saying. Two heads are better than one, and I need all the help I can get. But what you said about me getting a happy childhood where you didn't have one… Duo…" he paused, and his blue eyes meet mine. I felt chills go down my spine at just how deep they seem to penetrate into me, like he can see past everything. It made me nervous. "You need to know that whatever you do to help me… it's not going to atone for whatever you're blaming yourself for. Fixing me won't fix you."

And then it finally hit me. His masks don't work on me because I have masks just like them. While that means he will never be able to fool me into thinking he's alright, it also means something else. I can't fool him into thinking I'm alright either. I can see straight through Danny; And Danny can see straight through me.

"Oh, I almost forgot." I focused back on him. He looked at me with something firm and intense in his eyes. "If you're coming with me, you need to know one thing. Anywhere we go, no matter what we're doing, if you see someone wearing red anywhere near us, you run. No matter what." His eyes get even deeper. "If you don't, they will kill you." I stared. Looking for anything that will tell me he's lying. I don't find it.

And that, my friends, was the moment I realized I was in over my head. That hadn't happened in a long time… since the wars ended. I wondered if the fact that this exited me was a bad thing or not.

"Are you still coming?" He asked, and I can tell he doesn't expect me to.

But there was no way I was letting a kid take that sort of danger on, not alone. I grinned again, and this one is the realest one I'd ever shown him. "You can bet on it." I said.

**There you go! First time trying to write in this Point Of View, so any tips or help on style or characters greatly appreciated. And on the accent… I hope I didn't go too far, but that's how people around where I live tend to talk, and I sort of fell into the familiarity of it. Until next time! Please review if you can, I LOVE FEEDBACK! **


	5. Under an Emerald Sky

**I'm back! *****Bows***** This one has been done a while, but I was NOT happy with it so I had to leave it sitting on my computer until I didn't hate it anymore. It's still a bit slow, but if you use your imagination to sort of see what I'm setting up for it won't be as boring. So here you go! A merry Early Christmas gift! **

Summary: They wanted was protection. They got a living nightmare. And it was Heero's mission to wake them up.

* * *

Story # 5

**Under an Emerald Sky  
**By Patience Memory

Heero's dark Persian blue eyes flickered back and forth between the jagged red cliffs broadcast through the van's dark-tinted windows and the black clad driver sitting in the seat before him. Calculations ran through his head behind his carefully blank face, tracking how far they had come, how far they had to go, and the chances of an ambush being around the next corner the dark van took on the old cracked road. Things he would have wished he'd had to chance to forget how to calculate, if he'd thought it wise to wish for anything.

You accept your mission, complete your mission, and prepare yourself for the next one. And if there was a part of him that wished for more than that, it would have to wait just a bit longer. Someday, this would end. Someday war wouldn't be his way of life. Someday he'd be more than a soldier. Someday soon.

But not today.

His focus tightened as the two lane highway smoothed out into a straight line before the vehicle, his gaze catching sight of something on the horizon; something green. Not a deep green, but a bright unnatural green that shimmered against the pale blue sky, an eerie beacon of peculiarity.

His eyes shot to the speedometer, quickly calculating how much farther the vehicle would carry him. It wasn't far.

The driver, a large ruddy man with light eyes who tended to favor his right side, caught Heero's in the rear view mirror. "You're the first person I've shipped out here since they first realized something was really wrong." He said.

Heero stared. _"Slight wince indicated pain. The winces come often, so subject isn't used to moving in curtain ways to avoid aggravating the effected area, meaning any possible wound was recent… but not recent enough to keep him from a job. He works for Preventers, who hire mainly ex-soldiers. Possibility of being a War veteran, high."_ No expression had reached his face in the brief moment Heero held the others gaze, his deductions hidden as second naturedly as they had been made; as he had been trained.

The driver shifted when he got no reply. "You are a bit young to be out here, aren't you?"

If this man was a veteran, that explained his sudden interest in him, Heero thought. In his experience, Ex-soldiers tended not to leave things unsaid or to miss opportunities to make connections. They understood just how little it took for those opportunities to be gone forever in a way civilians did not.

The driver twiddled his thumbs on the steering wheel. "Don't know why they'd let kids out here." He mumbled, more to himself than Heero this time. "Real people are in danger. This is far from some tourist sight."

Although Heero it irritated at being called a kid, something he never remembered truly being, He couldn't agree more with the sentiment. Just not when it was directed at him.

_Real people are in danger._ Funny, how that worked. The one town on the planet that had tried to protect itself from certain death was the only one now facing it.

It had been the battle of a century. It had been a heinous plan, calling for the slaughter of millions of Earth's habitants; a catastrophe of enormous proportions, with five highly trained teenagers and their Gundams at the heart of the battle.

It must have been terrifying for those on the planet to watch their fate being fought over in the expanses of space. They had been vulnerable. There was nothing they could do.

Except the town of Amity Park did find a way to do something. Out of every last minute bomb shelter or stocked basement, the Amity Park had been the most drastic. They had wanted protection from those threatening their lives.

What they had gotten… was a nightmare.

The driver gave him a once over through the rearview mirror. "You aren't really the talking type, are you?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Hn." Heero grunted. He looked down at the laptop settled in his lap, his eyes darting over the stats on the screen once more, preparing himself.

It wasn't too long before the van was brought to a stop. Heero looked up, slapping the laptop closed. "This is as far as I go!" The driver said, cheerfully. He twisted in his seat to see Heero better. "Take care of yourself, okay kid?"

Heero stared back for a moment, once again annoyed at being called a child, and then nodded once in farewell, opened the door and exited the van.

* * *

_A figure ran through the blackness, the strong wind ripping at his clothing, drying the sweat on his brow and chilling him. He gulped in breath, blue eyes wide in desperation as he continued to force his legs, heavy as iron with fatigue, to carry him forward. He slipped through alleys and empty streets, racing around the gloomily shadowed buildings looming all around him. A scream pierced the night, and he felt panic sink her icy claws into his heart. He forced himself faster, forced himself to move when all he wanted was to curl up of the cold sidewalk and scream. He shivered, running pale fingers through his wild black hair._

"_Come out come out, wherever you are…"_

_He froze, his breath catching as the voice found him in the night, the almost cooing tone bringing fear crashing down like ice water over his being._

"…_You can hide but you can't run…"_

_Breathing became harder as the air began to thicken, his head pounding in unison with his pulse as he realized that he was losing sight of his shadowlike surroundings._

"…_Oh Danny, when will you realize…"_

_Suddenly the black was pressing in on him, choking down his nose and throat as he tried to breath, and stinging his eyes as he tried to find his attacker. He struggled against it and found he could not move. He was unable to move, see, smell; all he could do was hear the voice purring at him._

"… _There is_ no way out._"_

_He yelled as the darkness folded in on him, crushing him between its ruthless fingers, and then he was falling, and the voice had changed into a laugh, the likes of which drove fear deep into his very bones…_

"AH!"

Danny started awake, his eyes springing wide open as he gasped, pulling the morning air into his lungs. For a moment he was lost, squirming out of his covers as his mind struggled to realize he was awake, that it had been a dream, he was just fine…

He gazed at the room around him, calming as he recognized and labeled item after familiar item, convincing himself he was safe. There was his barely used skateboard, the slightly worn NASA posters, his certificate of achievement from Space Camp, the clothes thrown haphazardly across the bedroom floor, and the well-used Fenton thermos on his nightstand.

Danny squinted at the thermos, confusion tingling in his sleepy head as he watched the light reflect off the polished metal.

It hit him quickly, his face falling into a frown and his eyes darting to the open window.

Instead of the bright blue of the sky, he saw what every citizen of Amity Park had been waking up to for weeks. The glowing emerald of the Ghost Shield, the town's primary defense… a self made trap.

They had been trying to drop it for nearly three weeks, and nothing had worked. The control was clearly out of their hands, and if it wasn't returned soon…

Suddenly Danny's nightmare and reality didn't seem all that different.

He swallowed, suddenly aware of how his throat felt constricted. Silently he stood; each movement he made measured and somehow defeated as he walked across the room and stood staring with dazed eyes at the poster taped onto the light blue wall.

It was a detailed diagram of a common Space Shuttle, as was used to link Earth and the Space Colonies. He had gotten it for his twelfth birthday and had eagerly poured over every detail, memorizing each and every feature. Danny frowned as his pale fingers grasped its dog-eared corner and slowly pulled the bottom of the poster away from the light blue wall.

His free hand fished through his denim pockets (he hadn't bothered to change the night before), extracting a short eraser-less pencil. He placed the led against the wall and dragged it across, making a new metallic gray line slowly across a grouping of four other lines, these standing upright like a line of soldiers.

Each line was a number… each number, a day.

Thirty-five lines, arranged in groups of five, looking strangely like seven gates, placed along an invisible fence were drawn on the wall.

Danny let the poster fall back into place, his mind heavy. No matter how many gates he drew, there was no escape. No matter how long he counted… No matter what he did… The gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach was right. There was no way out.

He was starting to lose hope.

* * *

Jack was sitting in the lab, pouring over charts and diagrams and notes, exactly where Danny had left him the night before. His large shoulders were slumped, and Danny could see the smallest quiver in his fingers as he pulled another piece of information to him.

The young Halfa cleared his throat, eliciting Jack's attention.

"Danny-Boy!" He exclaimed, turning the chair to face his son. "What are you doing down here?" He asked.

Danny blinked at him, concerned. "Dad, how long have you been down here?" He shook his head, a tolerant smile on his lips. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. You need to go to bed."

"Just five more minutes. I'm almost…"

"That's what you said about six hours ago. It's morning." Danny interrupted, firmer than he usually was with his parent. "You need to _rest_, Dad."

"But I think I've found a way to undo this! I can't stop now!" Jack's voice was thick with desperation, looking hungrily at the mess of papers covering the lab counter.

"I'll keep working on it while you sleep." Danny promised. "I'll wake you if I find anything."

"But don't you have school?" Jack mumbled.

Danny stared. The large man's eyes were bloodshot, dark bags hanging beneath them. There was a paleness about his face that rang alarm bells in Danny's mind. "Dad," He said slowly. "They quit teaching classes two weeks ago. You're not remembering things. You need rest."

"I'm fine. Just-"

"I'm scared too, Dad." Danny said quietly. "Connecting the Ghost Shield to the energy of the Ghost Zone was as big of a mistake as using Vlad's Ghost-and-Human proof tech. But working yourself sick isn't going to find a way to stop it without wasting us. Go to sleep."

Jack sat silently for a moment, something old and serious in his usually playful eyes. Then he nodded before standing and making his way to the stairs. Danny watched him until he disappeared around the first turn of the staircase, seated himself on the chair, which was still warm from his father's bulk and began to read.

He busied himself with the documents, stats that were becoming more and more familiar as the days went by. Figures he would have baulked at in the classroom were made easy by the sheer desperation of his circumstances, and his mind was soon fully dedicated to his task. He was the hero. He needed to get them out of this mess. They would be having problems finding food after too long. The trees and plants were already dying, starved of pure sunlight by the green prison. Soon humans would be dying to. He needed to find a way to shut the Ghost Shield down; before it destroyed everything he cared about.

He needed a miracle.

* * *

Heero could make out the dome shape in the distance now, like a transparent green bowl turned upside-down on the horizon. He turned his attention to the military issue canvas covered truck waiting for him, striding to the round opening in the back of the vehicle, and using the tailgate to swing himself into the back. He recognized that he was not alone in the space instantly. His dark blue eyes sifted through the darkness until they met a pair of slanted pools of black, watching him with a fair amount of reserve.

He hadn't seen Wufei since they split ways at the end of the Eve wars; which in itself had done its very best to divide the five pilots. Wufei didn't know where they stood as friends after that last battle; Heero could recognize it in his eyes, and the tightness of his mouth.

After a moment of realization and careful consideration, Heero gave his fellow pilot a conservative nod, his eyes softening in a way only the Gundam Pilots would catch. "Chang." He said.

That one word said everything that needed to be said. It was an unspoken apology accepted, an assurance that Heero had made his fair share of mistakes and would not begrudge Wufei his; things only the pilots, the five teens that knew each other so well, who each recognized that on some level they were all the same, would catch in the one word.

"Yuy." Chang replied and the tension evaporated.

The two rode in silence for quite some time, neither moving until the truck stopped, about fifteen miles from Amity's city line. Heero stepped down after Wufei, his laptop clasped tightly in one hand. He turned toward the front of the truck and gazed at the sight before him, awe visible in his eyes for those who knew how to look.

It was enormous. Hundreds of feet into the sky it soared, arching over the buildings that sat beneath it, the red cliffs in the distance dwarfed by its magnitude. It was a vibrant jade, its surface creating a startling allusion of running water caused by ripples of energy cascading from its peak, high over the city.

Chang looked at him over his shoulder. "It's massive isn't it? The news reports don't give it justice."

"Hn." Heero agreed. "Any idea what it's made of?"

Chang shook his head, the small tight ponytail high on the back of his head swinging slightly at the motion. "They've been working on getting a reading of some sort, but it's proven impossible so far."

"Samples?"

"None. Only a few scientists have been close enough to try, and they get nothing but a nasty shock."

So it's some type of electric field."

"That's the strange part. It sends a shock through anyone to touch it, but does nothing to metal or other inanimate objects."

"So it's selective to humans?" Heero muttered as reels of information spun through his very capable brain, his mind searching through years of instruction about materials and security programs for something that matched the impossibility before him. "Some type of artificial intelligence or decision system?" he murmured.

Chang made a negative hum. "Doubt it. More like a programmed response to certain factors."

Heero frowned. "If it's that controlled why haven't those inside the dome dropped it of their own accord?"

"We don't know. Television, and radio frequencies, internet, they're all unusable through that thing; we've had no contact with anyone on the inside. It could be that they do not know the fighting is over." Wufei glanced at Heero. "Or it could be that there was the way to control the field was damaged somehow, or got out of hand. There's no way to communicate with the occupants, so we still don't know what happened. If you help us Yuy, that would be your first mission. Finding a way to communicate."

Hard blue eyes traversed the surface of the dome. This was a nearly impossible mission, Heero realized. There was precious little Intel, gross amount of pressure, an indefinite deadline, and countless lives on the line. It was a worst case scenario.

That's why they'd called him.

They needed a miracle.

He gave the smallest twitch of the lips. It wouldn't do for him to let them down.

With eyes steeled with determination, Heero turned. He looked straight into Wufei's eyes, every line of his posture screaming determination.

"Mission Accepted." He said.

Wufei smirked.

* * *

Somewhere within the green walls of Amity's nightmare, a boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders closed his tired blue eyes and pleaded to the sky beyond the emerald for help. He didn't open his eyes when he was finished, the tenseness ebbing slowly from his body. After a time his mind drifted off and gradually, gently, the paper he was holding slipped out of his fingers and onto the scuffed lab floor.

For the first time in weeks he slept without nightmares.

-End-

**Mission Accepted: Heero's favorite line. Right after I Will Kill You, of course. ^.^ Ah, soldiers.**

**This one took a while… I really wanted more action, seeing I believe anything involving Heero Yuy MUST involve action, but it wouldn't flow right. This is the first chapter; the foundation, and running straight into the action is a good way to rush a story so much people get lost anyways. Besides, if you haven't noticed, I'm a stinker for writing introspection. **

**If you want clarification for anything in here, ask in a review and I'll be sure to get it to you. Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Death in the Family

**With all of these so far I've just murged Danny Phantom into the Gundam Wing timeline. Lets see how else we could do this. :)**

* * *

Summary: There are some bonds nothing can break. Not even Time itself.

Story #6

**Death in the Family  
**By Patience Memory

_In this farewell,  
__There's no blood, there's no alibi,  
__I've drawn regret,  
__From the truth of a thousand lies…_

— What I've Done

* * *

A sharp gasp of breath cut through the absolute still of the bedroom, sheets rustling as a young woman jerked into a sitting position as quickly as her swollen belly would allow, her violet eyes darting around the room as if searching for some hidden danger. The man lying beside her gave a grunt when the mattress moved and the woman stilled, straining her ears to catch the sound of his breathing. She reached out towards him and brushed her fingertips across his back, assuring herself of his presence. Her other hand came to rest firmly on her stomach, where her unborn child rested and she shut her eyes and breathed. After a time her gasps for air had stilled, slowing until her breath was unidentifiable from her husband's.

She smiled thinly, and let her hand fall from her husband, bringing it up to brushed her light brown hair out of her a young face strained into something older than her twenty-eight years.

"Silly." She whispered at herself. "It's just a silly dream, Maddie. Go back to sleep."

But she didn't. Instead she swept the blanket off her legs and swung them over the side of the bed, bringing herself to her feet and moving towards the door.

Her bare feet padded noiselessly down the hall of her home as she moved from the master bedroom to one of the two doorways giving off the soft glow of nightlights through the slightly opening between the door and the frame. She pressed gently against it, and peered into the room. She could see the slumbering form of her two year old daughter on the low bed, the red headed child's face scrunched in response to a dream of her own. Maddie smiled, something in her heart unclenching at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound.

She eased the door closed, still smiling faintly as she rested her head against the wood, her tense muscles relaxing in relief. After a moment of silence she pushed herself upright, cradling her belly again as she made her way to her son's room. Slowly she pushed at the door, mindful of waking her child, and leaned forward so that she could see clearly.

Her eyes flew wide open and her body tensed.

"_What are you doing!"_

The figure leaning over her son's crib spun at her shout, his dark robe twisting around his form as he regarded her with eyes that glowed with a haunting red light, a striking silhouette against the backdrop of swirling green glowing behind him.

He raised his chin in the focus of her horrified eyes and nodded, sharply yet almost sadly at her pregnant belly.

"Send your son my regrets." He said, and stepped backwards into the portal with her sleeping child held snug against his chest.

She lunged forward, just as a pair of clock hands appeared, spinning over the green energy, the rip in reality closing in their wake, the portal disappearing completely in moments and leaving Maddie grabbing at air in the sudden darkness.

The night air fractured under the intensity of her scream.

* * *

_Fifteen years, two months later…_

* * *

Danny Fenton huffed, slumping down into the light gray of his seat and staring blankly out the front window of the Specter Speeder through his crazy bangs. "You know, this isn't how I envisioned spending my fifteenth birthday. I was thinking… more cake," he said dryly, "And less crazy ghost escapades."

The teenager sitting in the seat behind him cast a glance at the thermos lying innocently on the seat next to her and snorted, pushing a piece of raven black hair behind her ear with darkly painted nails. "Well, you should have expected crazy ghost escapades," Sam said practically, leaning over the seat and catching her best friend's eye as he turned his head towards her. "And when has your life _ever_ been like you envisioned?"

The ghost fighter sighed, another wisp of cold air leaving his lips as they passed an island of rock floating in the gloomy green and black of the Ghost Zone. With an irritated gesture he waved the puff of icy breath away from his face, his expression distinctly put out. "You do have a point. Still, it's my birthday! Couldn't I get a vacation? Just for one day?"

The African-American teen piloting the vehicle chucked quietly before shooting Danny an amused look. "Stop me if I'm wrong, dude," Tucker drawled, "but that wouldn't really help, would it? Most of your vacations end with you in mortal peril anyways."

"And it's too much to ask for a vacation _from_ mortal peril?" Danny sniped.

Tucker smirked. "Yeah, probably."

Sam patted the slumping Halfa on the shoulder. "In case you haven't noticed, fate doesn't seem to like you very much. Sorry Danny."

He groaned, dropping his head into his hands and raking his pale fingers through his mess of black hair. "All this stress… I'm gonna go bald before I'm thirty." He moaned.

"Or have a heart attack." Tucker added cheerfully. Sam leaned over to his side of the Speeder and smacked him soundly on the back of the head.

Danny shot his oldest friend an exasperated glare before ignoring him. "Okay, back to business. Where are we going to dump this thing?"

Tucker shrugged. "No clue. You're the ghost in this outfit; I'm just the technical support. Haven't you come across a… a ghost pound, or something?"

Danny frowned thoughtfully. "I _could_ hoist it off on Walker-" Sam swiftly turned toward him and gave Danny a slap on the back of the head to match Tucker's. "Ow!" He scowled, reaching up to cradle his abused cranium before turning to the tech geek. "_Why_ did we let her sit in the back again?" he asked.

"So she can't punch arms." Tucker quipped back.

"We are not giving him to Walker." Sam interrupted, frowning severely at the two boys in front of her. "There has to be a way to keep him in the Ghost Zone and out of Amity Park without locking him in a cage. He can't help causing massive explosions!"

"He?" Danny twisted in his seat to see Sam better. "It's a he now? It's an exploding blob of flame, Sam."

"And if you were him, would you like being called an _it_ just because _you_ were an exploding blob of flame?" Sam challenged.

"I wouldn't care," the Halfa said frankly. "Seeing I could still blow everyone up whether they called me an 'it' or not."

"You should care!" Sam exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "You can't just… _look_ at someone and decide they don't deserve an identity because they don't fit your standards!"

"Sam…" Danny said tentatively. "It's-" the Goth glared. "_He's_ a ghost. He doesn't need an identity; he just needs his obsession. And his obsession is blowing things up. That makes him _dangerous_. So we use anything we have to make sure he isn't anymore; even locking him in a cage." The fifteen year olds stern expression softened. "But we'll try to find another way first." He promised.

Sam looked like she wanted to say more, but subsided, leaning back and nodding her consent.

The Halfa cleared his throat. "So, any other ideas?" He shot Sam a smile. "Other than naming the exploding blob?"

Her frown melted into a devilish smile. "Oh, I don't know, that sounds like a good idea to me… How about Fluffy? What do you think, Tucker?"

Danny's light blue eyes widened, horrified. "No!" he ordered. "You are _not_ naming a ghost! And not _Fluffy_!"

Tucker laughed at the disturbed look on Danny's face. "I agree. Fluffy is too common." He smirked. "How about Fatman?" He ducked Sam's good natured swipe for his hat expertly, grinning.

Danny opened his mouth to retaliate but decided against it, turning forward and slumping against his seat again. "Fine, I give up." He sighed. "Any more ideas about where to put Fatman the Explosive?"

Sam and Tucker traded victorious grins before Sam shrugged. "Not really."

"We could strap him to a rocket and ship him off to space." Tucker suggested.

Danny snorted. "Right, and leave him out there for someone's spaceship to crash into. That would be fun."

Tucker shrugged. "It's not like there's a lot of spaceships to crash into him up there."

"There could be, someday." Danny insisted. "What if they build space colonies? And Fatman ended up in the way of some… transport route or something. "

Tucker gave him a tolerant look, a smile tickling at his mouth. "Space colonies? You gotta admit Danny, out of all your space imaginings that one's a bit unlikely."

Danny crossed his arms, shrugging. "You're talking to a half-ghost, half- human superhero. Anything's possible." He said.

Tucker hummed noncommittally. "So if space is out because you feel the need to protect your science fiction dreams, what's left?"

Danny's reply was cut off when Sam grabbed both boy's shoulders with an iron grip, her eyes sharp with adrenaline and fixed on something in front of them. "TUCKER! _DIVE!_"

Tucker gasped half in shock half in pain from the fingers digging into his shoulder as an island, shadowed in a way that had hid it until it was dangerously close, appeared as if from nowhere before him eyes. For a fraction a second he was relieved, ready to remind his friend that humans could pass right through ghostly objects… until he remembered the highly explosive ectoplasmic entity held in a thermos in the back seat. Fatman was a ghost. The Fenton Thermos was made to contain and repel ghostly energy; if it was occupied by a ghost, neither would phase through the obstruction. Though the Speeder would pass through the rock, the thermos would not, and if the impact broke it open while they were still in range, the chances of them surviving Fatman's detonation was very slim.

Tucker wretched the controller downwards with a frightened grunt and slammed his feet down flat on the pedals, throwing the rockets into full throttle. He could feel the engine shuddering under his hands as he pushed the Speeder against its previous momentum. For one horrible moment they were still, held in a pretense of motionlessness as two laws of physics fought for control of the craft. And then they were free, shooting down, the top of the speeder passing a few inches through the rock as they dropped under it.

And straight towards a chunk of stone which had been floating underneath.

There was no time. Danny reacted, the white rings of light passing over his body in a half-second flash at the same moment he grabbed the Thermos through the seat, turning his body to shield the container as they reached the formation. He choked on a scream as he hit the rock his friends passed harmlessly through. He curled around his enemy's prison as unneeded reflexes sent him into a coughing fit, his mind insisting the hit should have knocked the breath from him. He rolled onto his side when he was done, blinking the stars from his eyes. The spinning green of a natural portal met his dazed gaze. If he had been a little bit more to his left he would have gone straight through it. He stared for a moment before forcing his mind back onto the situation at hand.

Danny looked down through white hair at the thermos clutched to his chest. With hands still shaking from the force of the impact with the rock he loosened his grasp and tuned the device over, revealing a paper thin crack leaking a haunting green light. A crack that birthed more cracks as the thermos's prisoner pushed against the weakness.

"…Oh no." He whispered.

"_Danny!_" Sam's voice rang through the Speeder's Comm. System. Danny's head shot to his right, his panicked green eyes catching the Specter Speeder turning towards him.

"NO!" he yelled.

The metal fractured under his fingers. Danny gasped in pain as bits of twisted metal bit into his arms and face. He threw himself away, coming to float between the dissipating smoke that had been the thermos and the Speeder, which had heard his yell, and was now trying to get out of the danger zone. He barred his teeth, one white gloved hand pressed against a cut on his upper forearm as his mind raced. Fatman was hard enough to capture the _first _time. With all this ecto-energy to feed off of…

The smoke cleared. A mass of green energy, twisting and buckling like fire roared before him. Blood red eyes lifted, a gaze of pure rage locking on the form of the wounded protected before moving to the vehicle fleeing behind the Half-Ghost. Malicious triumph sprang from the being's core as it pulled its fire in, compacting it, building it, until-

A fierce blur of black and white plunged into its center with the force of a freight train, sending both ghosts backwards, right through the natural portal.

Danny threw Fatman away from him as he emerged on the other side of the rift rolling quickly onto his back and throwing burned hands in front of him, palms up, in the single moment Fatman needed to reorient itself.

Raging eyes locked on him just as his green ecto-shield appeared between him and the threat, and then the world exploded in blinding light, deafening sound, and searing pain.

The force smashed into Danny's barrier, throwing him into the ground below and crushing him against it as the blast continued to escalate. The heat bit at his injured hands and forearms through the shield they held, and he squeezed his eyes shut and endured the pain until he couldn't anymore. He loosed a scream as a pair of white rings appeared around his waist. He fought as they separated, fighting for every inch, yet they continued until both shield and ghost form disappeared, leaving his prone body human and vulnerable to be ravaged by the torrent of heat.

And then it was over. The trees around him were burning, adding the smoke of green wood to the sick odor of burnt skin and hair which rose in a mushroom shaped cloud of black smoke into the sky.

A young boy lay in a torched crater, his arms torso and half his face charred black and one leg twisted unnaturally under him, breathing in short painful gasps. Blood leaked from one corner of his mouth.

He cracked one eye open to squint at a clear blue sky; no sign of the portal. The blast had to have destroyed it.

_Sam and Tucker were safe._

His eye closed and his head lulled to the side as he gave in to unconsciousness, a small almost peaceful smile on his burned face.

* * *

Violet eyes shot open in a quiet room on the Space Colony L2. A roughly calloused hand took the edge of the blanket the young man was lying under and ripped it off, freeing his legs. He twisted off the twin bed and into a crouch, his messy braid of brown hair flopping down after him. There was no one else in the room.

Stealthy as a cat the ex-Gundam Pilot stood, swiping his gun from under his pillow and gliding to the door. After a moment listening he eased it open and ghosted down the hall, his weapon held at ready before him. He glided through the entire house before he stopped beside the door across from his. It stood slightly ajar, letting out the faint light of the old computer that seemed to almost always get left on. He pushed against the door gently with his shoulder, his gun held point down before him.

A young woman lay curled up under her sheets, a thin hand pressed into her mussed dark hair. With a faint smile Duo eased the door shut, leaning his forehead against the wood as his muscles relaxed.

"Silly." He whispered at himself.

There was no threat. Hilde was safe and no one had entered the house. Duo didn't even remember having a dream that could have caused his sudden paranoia.

So why did he still have the unnerving sensation that he wasn't alone?

* * *

**So one day while Pat was watching Gundam Wing she realized that Duo Maxwell looked a whole lot like Maddie Fenton. So she clapped her hands in fan-girl glee and said "Oh! What a coincidence!" A comment which a passing plot bunny heard, and decided he needed to correct. So he promptly grabbed ahold of her ankle, saying "Silly girl! There is no such thing as coincidence in Fanfiction!" And after working out how in the world he could be telling the truth, she wrote this. The end.**

**I REALLY like this one; and it's almost completely plotted out! It's also the first I thought of... ****Please tell me what you think! Review! I love them so much!**


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